


Carol of the Bells

by cymyguy



Series: 12 Days of Kagehina Christmas [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Band Fic, Christmas, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Middle School, trumpet players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymyguy/pseuds/cymyguy
Summary: I present to you...12 Days of Kagehina Christmas!~He was a black-haired boy with dark, spectacle-free eyes. He was tall, infuriatingly, unfairly tall. His face had a stony look to it, but every feature itself was soft, yet somehow sharp, refined, but somehow strong. The flute section burst into giggles, and Hinata felt his face getting embarrassingly red. The boy was totally cute.





	Carol of the Bells

**Author's Note:**

> song: "Carol of the Bells"

On the Monday after Halloween, Hinata’s concert band teacher had stopped the rehearsal to tell the trumpets they were rushing, to which a chorus of students added “Again.” His fellow trumpeters had grumbled, while Hinata pouted his lip and made the usual counter under his breath, that the rest of them were content with too slow.

Furudate-sensei had gone on to say that they would be getting a new student in this class tomorrow. He had been homeschooled before enrolling in Karasuno, and he played piano, violin, and trumpet. Safe to say, some kind of musical prodigy was joining their Third-Year band. Probably a class six or seven too, that was always a given with those kids. He would have glasses, probably, and be short, maybe even shorter than Hinata.

None of Hinata’s friends had met the home-schooled kid by third period, as they chatted on their way to the band room. But when they got to the room, which was filled with noise and an electric excitement created by all the girls jumping around and changing seats, it became apparent that some people _had_ already seen him. Before Hinata or his friends could get anything out of the girls, Sensei came in and told them all to sit down. Hinata and Izumi scurried to their seats with their horns, and Koji went back to the percussion section.

All at once, every eye that had been on their teacher turned to the person lingering at the doorway. Sensei gestured him into the room, which had gone as silent as a middle school classroom could possibly be. He was a black-haired boy with dark, spectacle-free eyes. He was tall, infuriatingly, unfairly tall. His face had a stony look to it, but every feature itself was soft, yet somehow sharp, refined, but somehow strong. The flute section burst into giggles, and Hinata felt his face getting embarrassingly red. The boy was totally cute.

“This is Kageyama-kun,” their teacher said. “He’ll be joining the trumpets. Make him feel welcome.”

The students had given a chorus of hellos at varying levels of enthusiasm, but Hinata didn’t join in. His eyes didn’t move from the new kid until a bustle and fuss in his own section roused him.

“No way, move over!”

“Ow, that was my ribs.”

A girl shoved the boy next to her, and he bumped into Izumi.

“Hey.”

“Make Hinata do it,” someone down the line said suddenly.

“Yeah, he’s the leader!”

“What?” Hinata looked to his left and right from the middle of the section. Then they started to jostle him on either side.

“Hinata you go to the end.”

“What, no!” he hissed.

“You’re first chair—”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t share a stand, you sit by him.”

“I don’t—I don’t want to—You guys—”

He was forced to his feet as they squished him out of the middle chair. The boy was making his way up the risers toward them. Hinata scrambled to the end seats. His stand was passed to him as he sat in one chair and scooted the other a respectable distance away. He scooted it back in a few inches, then back out, then let go hurriedly as the boy approached. Kageyama didn’t look toward any of them as he set down his instrument case and sat in the end chair.

Hinata turned to glare down the line at their alternating grins and anxious peeking faces. He knew they knew he was the gayest of them. Izumi quirked a brow at him. The blush hadn’t left Hinata’s face, and his guts were starting to twist into knots, but he turned to his right, toward the new boy. He fidgeted, and it made the boy turn. Hinata was sure a vein had burst in his forehead, but he said:

“Hi.” He smiled, naturally perfect. “I’m Hinata.”

Kageyama gave just a little nod. Hinata’s insides squirmed. He really liked shy people.

Heads all over the room were turned toward the two of them. Hinata fought off a smile as he set the stand between them. He adjusted the top.

“C—Can you see this well?”

“It’s fine. I’m just going to listen for today.”

“Oh, okay.”

Hinata blushed again. There was snickering to his left, and he glared at them all, but his blush got darker. As the room did its noisy warmup, Hinata dutifully went through the progressive scales, setting a good example for his section in the presence of this undoubtedly skilled musician. As his notes climbed higher and higher, he saw Kageyama’s hand move in the corner of his eye, a slender-fingered hand with clean, even nails, to take the sheets of music from his stand. Hinata forgot to keep playing as he watched Kageyama scan over the music. He continued to watch until Sensei called the class to attention, and Kageyama put the music back. He saw Hinata as he was retracting his hand, and scowled at him.

After the first song, when Hinata was busying himself with finding the music for the next song and trying not to be too pleased with his good playing on the previous, the new boy spoke to him again.

“Who’s the section leader?”

The trumpets peeked around each other to look at the new kid. Hinata sat up straighter, a smile building in his cheeks.

“I am.” He poked his chest with his thumb.

“No wonder you guys suck.”

Hinata’s unholy sound blended with the rest of the indignation.

“ _What_ did you say?”

“Excuse you!”

“Defend us, Hinata-kun, tell him off.”

“Why would you say something like that?”

“Trumpet section, settle down,” said Sensei.

“Who—Who do you think you are?” Hinata said.

“Yeah, tell him!”

“Guys, please don’t get in a fight—”

“I’m a musician,” Kageyama said over them all, and right to Hinata. “Obviously all you’ve been doing for three years is screw off.”

Hinata swelled his chest, clutching his horn in white knuckles.

“Hey, you’re a jerk!” he said.

“Who practices,” Kageyama said, crossing his arms.

“Hinata-kun practices a lot, and he’s a good leader,” one of them piped up.

“Yeah, and he’s our friend, you’re just an—”

“Trumpets. Do I need to say it again?”

The rest of the band was silently watching, and the trumpet section hurried to sit straight, knowing if Furudate’s tone got any tenser they were all in deep trouble. But Kageyama didn’t know their teacher, and Hinata was deaf to everyone but the boy insulting him.

“I don’t know how you expect to lead anything with that kind of posture. Your shoulders are going to be hunched by the time you’re thirty-five.”

“Well I’d rather have that than a stick up my—”

“Hinata Shouyou. Kageyama Tobio. Speak to me after class.”

Their heads whipped toward her, their eyes blew wide. Hinata could only close his mouth when he looked and saw the entire room watching him. He turned to face the front.

Kageyama had stayed in his seat, head down, all through rehearsal, and as everyone bustled around him to put things away. When Hinata was done he trudged down the risers to stand by the board. Kageyama watched, then followed him. When everyone else was gone, the teacher shut the door.

“You have a half hour detention tomorrow morning. You’ll be cleaning the gum off the seats.”

“D—Detention?” Kageyama said. “I—can’t, my dad—”

“We all have our moments,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be understanding, as you’re in the middle of a transition. You, Hinata, don’t have the same excuse. Tell your parents you were talking during class and being disrespectful.”

His face was in shadow as he looked down. “Yes sensei. I’m sorry.”

She looked between them.

“You’ll learn to work together, I know it. But in the meantime, I won’t have disruptions in my class.”

“Yes sensei!”

“Yes sensei.”

“You’re dismissed.”

When they got into the hall, Hinata moved away as fast as he could without running.

 

The next morning they had spent a silent detention together, kneeling on opposite sides of the room and tipping chairs to chip off the gum with paint scrapers. Hinata was feeling too guilty about his parents’ scolding and too bad about being disrespectful to one of his favorite teachers to spare much thought for Kageyama and how much he disliked him.

The hatred set in during band period, when they next saw each other. Kageyama took a shiny, dentless horn out of its case, one that must belong to him because the school didn’t own anything that nice. And the sound he produced with it was an exceptionally solid, pure tone; Hinata heard two of the first clarinets commenting on it as they blushed in Kageyama’s direction. To top it all, he did a perfect sight read of the first song they played. After that, everyone was talking, and the rest of the section seemed to forget for the time being that Kageyama looked down on them. Only Izumi was still on Hinata’s side, though fiercer loyalty was still to be wished for; when Hinata claimed that Kageyama must have practiced the songs the night before in order to be that good at them, Izumi pointed out that there was no way he had had the music at home to practice.

Soon it was to rights again, however, because Kageyama informed them openly and bluntly that they never kept to the speed their teacher set out, that their dynamics were non-existent, that their articulation needed a lot of improvement, and finally, that they sounded much closer to a first-year trumpet section than a third. All this he told them before the first week had ended. By the weekend, the ten original trumpeters had made themselves one new enemy, and the one new trumpeter had made zero friends.

 

Looking back, it had benefited them all much more than they could have anticipated to nominate Hinata for the seat next to Kageyama. Multiple times a week the new boy complained that the stand was too low. He snapped at him for playing too loudly, for not listening to his neighbor outside his own blaring sound. That only made Hinata try harder to drown him out, until he got checked by Sensei for it. By week three Hinata hated several things in particular; Kageyama kept time with his foot, which Izumi and a lot of others did too, but Kageyama started to purposely position his shoe against the iron of the music stand’s legs, and his pounding would get louder, more insistent, as Hinata edged and edged at the tempo. He despised the way Kageyama was constantly putting on chapstick. After every band period, and sometimes even in between songs, he pulled the stick out of his pocket and pursed his lips as he made two precise swipes across them. Hinata wanted to shove the stick up his nose, or another place.

But the worst thing of all, for Hinata and the entire section, was that Kageyama was good. He was very good, and did everything very well, and therefore probably knew what he was talking about when he said they did things poorly.

“Do you _all_ have to blow like your lives depend on it?” he had said one day.

The boys who had heard him burst into giggles and snorts. This went completely over Kageyama’s head, as they had discovered such things usually did, and he glowered at them and said:

“Izumi has the best sound out of all of you, and nobody can ever hear him because the rest of you play too loud.”

“We have the _melody_ , we’re supposed to be loud,” Hinata said, as the others crowed along defensively.

“You’re supposed to be strong, that doesn’t mean loud,” Kageyama said through his teeth.

“Izumi can play louder if he really wants to, right?”

Hinata turned to him, and saw something suspiciously like a pleased color in his cheeks. Hinata rolled his eyes.

“You’re supposed to listen to your neighbors as you play,” Kageyama said, “And it’s pretty easy to tell that you don’t listen to me at all.”

Hinata scoffed, then repeated the sound when he couldn’t find words.

“Just because you’re the section leader doesn’t mean you don’t have to do it.”

“You don’t do it and you’re not even the section leader,” Hinata said.

Then he noticed Sensei watching them, arms crossed. He grumbled an apology and hunched down in his seat.

To be honest, Hinata didn’t know why he was still the section leader. Kageyama had been there nearly a month, but their teacher hadn’t said anything about changing the arrangement, even though Hinata knew the whole band thought Kageyama the superior player. The rest of the section didn’t dare to call the new boy anything other than Kageyama-senpai by now; Hinata took personal offense to this, as he had never been called as much even as the lead. Kageyama wasn’t even 14 yet, he was younger than all the rest of them. Hinata defiantly called him Kageyama-kun, as if they were not only equals, but on good terms, which he knew was the worst form of punishment.

In most ways, however, Hinata had to admit he was superior. The thing he still clung to was that he could keep up with Kageyama in tempo no matter what; the king’s articulation might be more precise, but Hinata never missed a note, matched him on every one.

 

Continuing into third-year band had brought the honor of attempting Carol of the Bells, in whatever variation the teacher thought suited the class’s style and talents best. It was played every year as the finale piece to the concert. Hinata had been ready for it since he heard it as a first year, and heard the reaction of the audience. If he had tried to tell Kageyama this, he would have laughed in his face, except that he never laughed. Because according to Kageyama, they would never be ready for that song. And definitely not in time for the concert.

Every Tuesday and Thursday the band split into their sections for a half hour of specialized practice. The trumpets had always looked forward to these days, when there was time for a little more goofing off than usual while Sensei jumped between each group to instruct. But they started referring to Tuesdays and Thursdays as boot camp. Trapped in one of the tiny practice rooms with Kageyama, they played the same measures over and over, on the worst days one by one, until Kageyama was satisfied, or frustrated enough that he gave up. It was hard to get him to give up, though. They tried often.

“It’s not a slur,” Kageyama said to him for the third time. He raised his horn, about to demonstrate again, but Hinata cut him off.

“If a run is too hard we turn it into one. Sensei said it’s fine, if it works better for us.”

Kageyama scoffed. “The composer of this piece would not say it’s fine. They wrote it a certain way because it means a certain thing, and when you ignore what’s written you kill the meaning.”

“Well sorry _concertmaster_ ,” said Hinata. “We didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about the meaning of the song.”

His friends laughed. Kageyama was looking very angry. It was then that Furudate-sensei came in. They rushed to tell her that they had changed the run to a slur, but that Kageyama wouldn’t agree with them.

“I know that’s not how it’s written,” she said, “But if the rest are playing it that way, you’ll need to match them.”

Hinata smirked covertly at him.

“But you should try to play it as Kageyama-kun does,” Sensei said, “And only go to the slur once you’ve tried your best.”

It was Kageyama’s turn to smirk, and the rest of them were so terrified that they couldn’t glare back.

 

The trumpet section often took the few minutes before class began to talk about highly important matters.

“I don’t get mistletoe,” someone said one day. “Why would you feel obligated to kiss because of some little plant thingy?”

“Isn’t it just like a tradition? I don’t think you have to.”

“But if you didn’t have to why would anyone do it at all? Who would care?”

“Well obviously there’s a curse!” said another.

“What curse?”

“And how is that obvious?” said Izumi.

“Well it’s stupid, so why else would people do it? I’ve heard about it, if you ignore the mistletoe you’re setting yourself up to be forever alone.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“No, he’s right!” a girl said. “My grandmother told me about this too, she had a friend that it happened to, and she never dated anyone her whole _life_.”

“I’m sure there are other reasons for that,” Izumi mumbled.

“But what if the other person doesn’t _want_ to kiss you?” was Hinata’s concern.

“Then they’re dooming you both.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said, “Because that’s not right.”

“Yeah, tell them Shoyo,” said Izumi.

“What if they’re your biggest rival or something?”

“Okay, believe what you want, but don’t come crying to me in 50 years when you’ve never been on a date and they won’t even let you have an E-Harmony profile anymore.”

“That’s not going to happen, Hinata-kun’s a nice guy! Curse or no curse, he’ll be—”

Kageyama took his seat then, and they all went silent and looked pointedly at their music. Hinata was doing the same, until Kageyama reached out and raised the stand. Hinata turned, already glaring.

“Hey—”

“Why do you have to be so damn short?”

Kageyama had always commented on the stand itself, never on Hinata. He didn’t see the mouths of those behind drop open, because Hinata had stood up.

“ _What_?” he growled.

Kageyama glared.

“All you ever do is complain,” Hinata said. “Nothing’s ever good enough for you.”

“It would be good enough if you actually listened to me,” Kageyama said. He stood up too. “I tell you how to be better but you never even try, because you already think you’re so good because you’re the lead.”

“I don’t think that, _you_ think that!”

Most of the room had heard them by now, and they grew anxious as they watched the two standing boys.

“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, that everything you do must be the only right way, and I don’t even like this class anymore because I like to have fun when I play but it’s impossible when you’re here,” Hinata said.

“I _am_ better than you!” said Kageyama. “But it pisses me off, because you have a lot of talent that you waste because you just want to do things your own way, you won’t let anybody tell you to change anything—”

“I want to get better! I’ve always listened to my classmates and my teacher because of that. The only reason I don’t listen to you is because you’re a jerk! Everything you say is to criticize us and you never admit it when we do a good job on something, all you want is to conduct us like we’re puppets and you’re playing _all_ the instruments. But you’re not the conductor of this band, and you’re not the leader of this section.”

There were restless whispers and a little laughter around them. Then Kageyama seemed to hover closer. Hinata’s eyes got big, but he didn’t back away.

“Then prove it,” Kageyama said.

Dead silence.

“If you think you can keep up with me, if you think you can match me, then do it.”

“I will,” Hinata said. “But you have to prove that you can match me too.”

He sat down and faced the front, just in time for Sensei to enter the room. Kageyama hurried into his chair. Furudate scolded the class for being so quiet and mumbled something about freaking her out.

Before the first song started, they exchanged another glare.

Hinata didn’t think he had ever played worse, than he did when he tried to match Kageyama. He stopped and started again every time he got ahead, which was more often than he had thought, and more noticeable yet was how others stopped playing because Hinata was not there to reassure them as they rushed. The section grew weaker as people lost their place or just gave up; sometimes Kageyama and Hinata were the _only_ ones playing. He kept an eye on Sensei and an ear trained to Kageyama, which was not as hard with just the two of them. Hinata made sure to pull back enough on the quiet parts to still hear him. He was rewarded by a few almost-slurs and a whole missed measure from Kageyama, as his attempt to match Hinata’s tempo got him momentarily confused.

Afterwards they were busy furiously scowling at each other and missed Furudate-sensei’s smile in their direction.

 

Two mornings ago, on Monday, Hinata had been searching for a certain friend who would trade fruit rolls with him, as their mothers always bought the kind their little sisters liked. Hinata found himself stopping outside the Class 3 room, where he saw Kageyama inside, eating alone at his front corner desk. Hinata decided to go in.

“Hi Kageyama.”

He looked up fast, and back down faster.

“Why are you here?”

Hinata rolled his eyes a little.

“Well I was just walking and I saw you in here alone. Are your friends not eating today?”

He frowned. “What friends?”

Then he blushed, a deep and furious red filling his cheeks. Hinata sat down at the desk next to his.

“Okay, so you just like eating alone?”

He shrugged over his bento. “I don’t care either way.”

“Then—Then it wouldn’t bother you if I ate here? I was looking for a friend but I can’t find her anyway.”

Kageyama surveyed him and the lunchbox sitting on the desk. He turned back to his food.

“Whatever.”

Hinata grinned. “Let’s enjoy!”

Their corner of the room fell into silence as they began their meal.

“Hey Kageyama?”

He glanced at the redhead.

“How long did you have piano lessons?”

“…Since I was six.”

“Wow, does that mean you still have them?”

He nodded.

“With the same teacher all that time?”

“Yeah.”

“They must be like the most patient person ever.”

Hinata was grinning cheekily. Kageyama scowled.

“How long have you been homeschooled?” Hinata said next.

“Since seven. I mean, I went to first year primary. Then I stopped.”

“Oh, why? I mean—Um, never mind, that’s none of my business.”

“My mom just thought it was best,” Kageyama said.

Hinata fidgeted quietly, looking at him a few times.

“So she changed her mind now, or something?” he couldn’t help saying.

“My parents got divorced.”

Hinata’s mouth went into an o.

“I’m sorry.”

Kageyama shrugged.

They were quiet again. Kageyama finished part of his meal, then paused over his other portion.

“My dad’s wanted me to go back to school,” he said. “He didn’t think—I was making enough friends and things like that, even though I played in youth orchestra and ensembles and went to camps. Since I live with him now, I go here.”

“Ohhh, I see.”

Kageyama looked at him again, carefully from behind his bangs, and Hinata’s face broke into a wide smile. His blue eyes skirted away, and they didn’t talk anymore. When he had finished eating, Hinata gave a hurried bye and left.

 

They’ve come a long way for tonight, the night of the concert. Hinata enters the band room at 6:30 sharp, only to find Kageyama already there, getting out his horn.

“You’re never on time, are you.”

“How can you say that?” Hinata cries. “I’m exactly on time, and you know I’ve never been late for this class.”

Others trickle in, all wearing black long-sleeve shirts and black pants, which they do every year, but Hinata thinks it’s really cool, every year. Warm-up noise bounces from wall to wall. Girls compliment each other’s makeup. Hinata fidgets, then paces, then buckles over, clutching at his stomach. Izumi sighs, and Koji rolls his eyes at the ceiling. And Kageyama, scolds him.

“Are you nervous? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’ll throw up on you,” Hinata says. “It’s happened before.”

“Our first year,” Izumi nods.

“Don’t talk about it.” Koji shivers.

“We’ve practiced it how many times,” says Kageyama, “There’s nothing to do but what you’ve already done. I’m gonna kick your ass if you somehow manage to screw up something you actually know how to do.”

“That’s like the opposite of encouraging!” Hinata says.

“Stand up straight,” he orders. “If you _act_ like you’re feeling sick, it’s only going to get worse.”

“Other people are nervous too, why are you harassing me?”

But he does as he’s told, and when it’s time for the section to tune, he is right on, and when Kageyama goes second, so is he.

“Wow, ten minutes before the concert and now you decide to start matching me?” Hinata smirks.

“You matched me.”

“That’s not possible, I went first!”

“Your horn knows where to go by now, and it’s not as stubborn as you.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. But he also chuckles.

His legs bounce as they wait for the end of the concert. At some points even that isn’t enough and he fiddles with his hands too. Finally it’s their turn to play, but he’s still on edge and rushes just a little; Kageyama is there with his foot-tapping, as if he fully expected to use it.

Then it’s time for The Bells. Hinata gulps down a huge breath of air as Sensei’s eyes roam over them all, to see that everyone’s music is settled. Someone kicks his foot. He whips his head toward Kageyama. The boy blinks at him, then glances down. Hinata follows his eyes and sees that he is holding out his fist. Hinata stares at it as he slowly closes his own hand, and with a lot of uncertainty, bumps their knuckles together. Kageyama gives a curt nod, and before he can turn away is caught by the smile splitting Hinata’s face. Sensei steps onto her podium. They raise their horns, and they play.

 

Their cases are neatly lined along the hall, until the students descend in torrential chaos. They stuff their instruments away, slam lids, throw folders. Celebrating what they just did is way more important. Hinata congratulates and gets congratulated, but hardly knows what is said. It feels like he’s missing something important, but he’s too excited to think hard on it.

“Koji! Your timpani was kyuuuuu, so powerful—”

“Shut up, Shoyo, you’re embarrassing yourself.” His cheeks are bright pink.

“Shoyo-kun, we were on fire!” says a second chair. He high-fives her.

“You guys were awesome!”

His girl friends throw smiles and compliments at him, but Hinata can’t really answer, as he’s just remembered that he wants to find Kageyama.

“You guys sounded seriously good, it was like, beautiful even.”

“You and Kageyama were so good together, Hinata, Sensei’s super proud of you for—”

There he is, alone by the trumpet cases. He’s on one knee as he wipes off his mouthpiece and sets it properly in the case next to his horn. Hinata is there in two leaps.

“Ka—ge—ya—ma! That was awesome!”

Kageyama has looked up fast, nodding readily, and Hinata is pretty sure he saw a smile, only Kageyama looks down again and hides it away.

“That was fun,” Kageyama says. Hinata’s eyes bug out.

Kageyama has played in all those fancy talented-youth things, big concerts with probably famous conductors and songs that actually challenged him, where no one’s pants were too short and none of the woodwinds ever squeaked and nobody lost their music five minutes before. This concert can’t even be called one compared to all that. But Kageyama had fun.

Hinata’s smile explodes across his face. “HECK yeah!”

Kageyama closes his case and stands up as Hinata launches into raptures.

“Hyuuuwaaaah Kageyama, we stayed together perfectly the whole song, even that part where you always go super slow mo and I could never do it, and the daaah dun dun dun we cut off at the exact same time, and your slurring was really nice and melodic and everything, and when we hit all those high notes everyone was like woooooah—”

Kageyama is for sure smiling now, and it’s soft and flustered, and his cheeks are pink with pleasure, and his eyes are as blue as Hinata has ever seen them. Being Hinata, he does the most illogical, most instinctual thing in response to the hot swooping in his gut; he kisses him.

Stars pop behind his eyes, and Hinata grabs onto Kageyama, the only thing available. Lips melt against his, and his head is full of pressure, but a victorious kind, like he’s nailing the highest note. Kageyama’s overworked lips are pliant, soft and smooth on the surface. They taste like vanilla chapstick.

Hinata pulls back and lets go all at once. He stares, not really seeing, and his tongue isn’t working for anything except to lick at the taste still on his lips. Kageyama is fully flushed in the face and it doesn’t seem like he can move.

Suddenly Hinata is grinning. He pats his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow concertmaster!”

He hustles away, only to be cut off by his friends, who, as soon as he makes eye contact, roar with laughter.

“You _kissed_ Kageyama!”

“You really are an idiot.”

“I can’t believe this, of all the PDA I thought I’d see in my young life—”

“Wha—What? I did not do that!” Hinata says.

“You so did!”

“Yes you did, yes you did, Hinata kissed Kageyama-senpai just now—”

“That wasn’t me!” he squeaks.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the mistletoe curse, Shoyo.”

“There was no mistletoe! I—I mean—What?”

Kageyama is still in the same place, watching orange hair bob away into the crowd, when he hears his name.

“Tobio.”

He blinks and looks up at his father.

“That was a great concert. It looked like you guys were having fun.”

Tobio nods absently.

“Are you ready to go?”

He picks up his case and walks forward, and his dad follows his trance-like weave through the crowd, amused. He happens to have seen everything, though he’s not going to tell Tobio, knowing he would refuse to be in the same room as him for a month. But he would like to think of a way to let him know that he’s not worried about his son anymore.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next fic coming December 13


End file.
